


Words

by TellMyLegacy



Series: Soulmates (ON HOLD) [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Inspired By Tumblr, M/M, Multi, Platonic Soulmates, Romantic Soulmates, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-25
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-07-25 17:29:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7541575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TellMyLegacy/pseuds/TellMyLegacy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alexander Hamilton had always known that he had three soulmates due to the three simple, different words decorating his body.</p>
<p><em>Helpless</em> was engraved in cursive lettering just below the edges of his collarbone.</p>
<p><em>Satisfied</em> was written neatly in his right wrist.</p>
<p><em>Freedom</em> was carved boldly above his heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Words

Alexander Hamilton had always known that he had three soulmates due to the three simple, different words decorating his body.

_Helpless_ was engraved in cursive lettering just below the edges of his collarbone.

_Satisfied_ was written neatly in his right wrist.

_Freedom_ was carved boldly above his heart.

When he was eight years old, he began questioning the words that had once seemed like a game he played with James, his brother. _Who had the most words?_ Alex always won, having three against his brother, who only had one. Later, when curiosity almost ate him alive, he asked his mother about the marks littering his skin, and she explained how two people who carry a mutual word are soulmates. Meaning, they are bonded for life. When he asked why he had three words instead of just one, she shrugged nonchalantly, faintly tracing the word in his inner wrist.

"You're a lucky boy," she told him, caressing his unruly hair, her lips tugged slightly upward, "three people will be very fortunate to have you as their soulmate."

He had smiled, then hesitated slightly before asking, "Mom, do you have a mark?"

His mother's smile never faltered, but her almond eyes seemed to age older as she continued running her fingers through his scalp, "No, my dear boy. Some of us aren't as lucky; we are not destined to have a soulmate."

"What about father?" Alexander asked, but his eyes widen when he noticed the salty tears welling in her eyes, and he immediately scolded his impulsive mind for hurting his mother's feelings. The single tear that trailed down her cheek completely drained his curiosity, and he instead hugged his mom tightly, and declared, "I'm going to make them so happy, mom. Just you wait. I promise."

She chuckled, holding her son close to her as she kissed him tenderly on the forehead, and whispered, "I hope so, my boy. And I hope they make _you_ happy, too."

He smiled, and believed her. After all, she always told the truth.

 

* * *

 

"We'll be alright," his mother whispered as she held Alexander and James in her arms, rocking her sons while humming a quiet lullaby.

His father had just left the house in a blurry series of shouts, incoherent obscenities, and violent punches at Alexander's mother. Even with a darkening bruise covering her left cheekbone, she still found the strength to comfort her children when _she_ was breaking slowly inside.

Alexander was scared. His mind comprehended what just happened, but his body seemed to be in shock as silent sobs trembled through his body. He looked over to James, and noticed the falling tears trailing a path down his brother's cheeks. He took his hand, but James pulled harshly away, glaring at Alex with fiery eyes. Alex inaudibly whimpered, and instead gripped his mother's bloodied dress harder.

"We'll be alright," she whispered again, closing her eyes. They will manage. He believed her.

Slowly, things started looking up. He was ten when his mother started a local grocery market, where he and his brother worked. Then, Alex was hired to work as a clerk in another general store, where he was praised heavily for his mathematical talent and gift for writing. Things were really getting better.

 

* * *

 

Two years later, Alexander and his mother were bed ridden due to an unexplained high fever. The doctors tried various medicine, natural herbs, but nothing seemed to work. All they could do was wait. And so they waited. In pain, Alex and his mother laid side by side, suffering from the never ending headaches and constant, violent dizziness.

“We’ll be okay,” his mother rasped out, pain contorted in her features as Alex hung desperately to her thin figure. He believed her.

There were some days where the pain was much greater than anything he ever felt. His stomach would ache as he returned the little water he had been able to drink up his raw throat. In those dark days, all he could do was trace with shaking fingers the word  _Freedom,_ and just pray for everything to be over.

Unfortunately, it was only the beginning.

Days later, death would find Alex’s mother as she tried to fight valiantly against this horrible sickness, only for the sake of her son. Alas, she failed.

And as Alexander stared numbly at her grave, reality crashed into him- things were not going to be okay. She had not told the truth this time.

Maybe she had also lied about his soulmates. Maybe he would never bring happiness to his lover, or to his friend. Maybe all he would do was make them suffer in the burning embers that surround him, and all they would be able to do was watch as their fake fantasy burned. All because of him.

But for now, all he could do was wait.

 

* * *

 

He and James moved with their cousin, Peter Lytton, after the death of their mother.

The pair of brothers tried to help in any way possible, but how could Alexander help when his own demons never seemed to sleep? Sometimes, he tried talking to James, saying quick words just to receive the little comfort his hurting brother could provide.

"James, I can't sleep." Alex muttered to the air of their shared room, knowing that his brother was awake due to the irregular breathing. The only answer he received was a huff, and there was silence.

Tragedy seemed to follow wherever Alexander went, seeing as how his cousin's wife died suddenly one day. The house was quiet for the next days, and the Hamilton's were forced to fend for themselves; Peter never came out of his room. Alex would walk by his door every night, opening it slightly to see his cousin hunched over, holding in his arms a light green dress as tears fell freely from his eyes. Alex closed the door and walked away.

The next day, Alex opened the door again, but his cousin now sat in the wooden floor as he faced the wall. There was no sounds, only faint breathing. He closed the door and walked away.

The next time Alex would open the door, he would gasp loudly as he was greeted by the corpse of his cousin hanging from the ceiling, his eyes glassy as they stared at nothing. Alexander opened the door more, and screamed. "JAMES!"

 

* * *

 

Alex was 17 when everything went down to hell.

He had been working in a trading charter when the hurricane hit his town. Devastation reign as he watched his childhood home destroyed in the blink of an eye by the merciless force of nature. He saw his neighbors, innocent children dying left and right as the violent winds tore houses from the dirt. The heavy rain turned the dry grounds to mud, people were overwhelmed by the horrific hurricane.

He sat with two children by his side, rocking them slightly and humming a lullaby, the same his mother had sung so long ago. He tried to ignore the whimpers emitting from their mouths. He tried to ignore the heavy drops falling into the floor of the cabin as the hurricane outside stood raging, loud and proud. He tried to ignore the sounds of death, and instead focused on keeping the little girl and boy safe.

He heard the people outside, screaming for help, drowning. And yet, Alex didn't drown. After all this time, he couldn't seem to die.

If he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine a hand intertwined with his, filling his hopeless heart with enough strength, courage to keep on living. His soulmate.

_Hold on,_ he told himself as he tried to shut out everything. Rain hit the back of his eyelids, the vicious wind ruffled his hair and dirty clothes as it entered, uninviting, to the shaking cabin. The two children were sobbing loudly now, their hands gripping and scratching his arms as they sought peace in the nape of his neck, near the word _Helpless_.

It seemed like years later when Alexander would finally open his eyes, and noticed the men who were scavenging for survivors in the ruins.

"Hey," he gently pried away the little girl who was gripping his clothes like her life depended on it, "everything's alright. We're safe."

The little girl looked up, eyes wide as she looked left and right. The boy next to him had calmed down minutes before, and he was now walking slowly towards the fallen door of the cabin. She looked at Alexander again, and asked hoarsely, "is it gone?"

"The hurricane?" he asked as he picked her up with struggle. The little girl was no older than 6, but Alex was scrawny for his age. She nodded silently, her damp hair stuck to her forehead as she looked at the other boy, who was now waving his arms at some of the men outside.

He swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded, "it's gone."

"Good." She replied almost silently, a small smile forming in her face. The smile was soon replaced with a painful frown as Alex finally walked outside the cabin.

St. Croix was utterly destroyed. Fallen trees laid on the roofs of houses; carriages were thrown aside; older men were trying to free screaming men, women, children that laid under fallen rumbles from the destruction. Alex noticed with wide eyes a bawling, young slave as he tried to escape from a carriage that covered his whole torso.

He set the little girl on the floor with other women who were trying to heal victims of the storm. He turned to the girl, and said, "stay here."

Alexander ran towards the howling young man, and placed his hands on the carriage. "Hold on," he told the man, and pushed with all his might. However, Alex wasn't anywhere near strong, so he called out to the other men. "Help!"

A man turned to him, and was about to run to help but faltered once he saw who laid on the ground, dying- a black man. He never came.

Alex called out again, louder, "Help! He's dying!" A couple of other men turned towards him, but no one came. Alex screamed in frustration, tears falling from his eyes as he looked at his bloodied hands. He tried to push again, but his heel kept slipping in the mud, and his arms weren't strong enough. He turned towards the man, and noticed that his breathing faltered each second. He whispered lowly, "I'm sorry."

The man stopped breathing. Alex closed his eyes.

 

* * *

 

 

Days passed and Alexander could still remember the cries of desperation from the dying people. He remembered the screams, the destruction. Mostly, he remembered the slave's eyes as he laid dying, no one willing to help. He remembered his eyes, wild with pain, hazy, but still a man's eyes nonetheless. Alex touched the _Freedom_ by his heart, his eyes lit aflame.

_I will make a change,_ he bowed that day.

The island was devastated, but he scavenged for anything he could find. He read whatever books he could get his hands on. He wrote everything in his mind. He wrote and he wrote and he wrote. He published beautiful poems in the local newspaper, he sent emotional letters to his father and brother, he wrote.

The people began to notice him. Sometimes he could hear mutters behind wide eyes, “this kid is insane, man!”

He grinned.

He wrote like the end was near, which could very well be. He wrote countless of melodies, melodramatically crafted poems. Eventually, the citizens in the island noticed him more and more, until they took action in their own hands. They passed a plate around, dropping golden coins, silver lings, bills; moved to kindness by his story. _Such genius cannot be wasted,_ they said. The rich men in the destroyed city made sure that there was enough money for a complete education, and these strangers sent Alexander to the land of the free, where he would find his freedom.

He sailed to America, and began his new life.


End file.
